


The Ghost of Christmas Presents

by WastingYourGum



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: As shippy as you want it to be - or not at all, Gen, Great Hiatus, Post-Reichenbach
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-05
Updated: 2014-12-05
Packaged: 2018-02-28 06:31:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 823
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2722190
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WastingYourGum/pseuds/WastingYourGum
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lestrade realises he's going to save a lot of money this Christmas. Funny how that doesn't make him happy...</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Ghost of Christmas Presents

"So what are you doing for Christmas this year, sir?"

It was a simple enough question. The young constable who'd asked it as he deposited a cup of tea on the desk had no idea it would stop DI Lestrade dead in his tracks.

Fuck. What _was_ he doing for Christmas? When _is_ Christmas? What's today? The fifth? Less than three weeks away. Shit.

He hadn't even thought about it. Usually he was in Dorset at the in-law's but he'd gotten his finalised divorce papers a few weeks ago - on Hallowe'en of all days, the only part about the whole sorry business that had made him laugh - so that wouldn't be happening.

At least that meant he had one less person to buy presents for. She was _definitely_ on the naughty list. Probably wouldn't stop him picking things up thinking she'd like them before remembering though. He still found himself shopping for groceries based on their combined preferences not just his.

God, he'd have to buy a whole new set of decorations as well; she'd taken the fake tree and baubles along with nearly everything else. Although his small new flat would look pretty stupid with twinkly lights draped on unpacked boxes; he probably wouldn't bother.

The constable's face took on a panicked look as the awkward silence lengthened and the poor lad realised he'd made some horrible - albeit unwitting - social blunder.

"You going to your Mum again, Dallas?" Donovan rescued both of them by throwing the question back to the DC whose frozen face melted with relief into its natural sunnier disposition.

"Yeah, she always does enough for an army even though it's just me and my brother. I'll not need to eat for days after."

"That's Mums for you," said Donovan. "I tell mine every year not to give me any edible presents but I still come away with bags full of cakes and chocolates."

An image of his own Mum handing over "just a small Christmas cake for you and your boys" came to Greg's mind. She made one for him every year; a foil wrapped fruit cake too big even for the largest biscuit tin and weighing the same as a couple of concrete slabs. It took the whole office several days to finish it.

It would be his sixth Christmas now without it. He still missed her - and the cake.

Since she passed he'd bought a shop one for the office every year to keep up the tradition but it wasn't the same as home-made. Not that that stopped Sherlock from eating the slice Greg carefully set aside for him to pretend not to be interested in and then scoff in three seconds flat. It would be sitting on a plate in his office one minute and gone the next - a recurring Christmas mystery he never tried too hard to solve.

That was another thing that would be different this year.

Sherlock was another person he wouldn't be shopping for. He'd been permanently on the naughty list but somehow Greg always got him a present anyway. Sometimes it was even something Sherlock found marginally acceptable - he'd kept the scarf Greg got him that third Christmas right up until the day he… Well, he'd clearly liked it, even if he never said so.

He'd probably visit the grave - but he wouldn't take anything to leave there. Not his style. Not Sherlock's either.

Which left…

Huh.

He didn't actually have anybody to buy presents for; no relations, no spouse, no mad bastard consulting detective.

"You should take a holiday, boss. Maybe get some winter sun?" Donovan suggested.

"No, I'm working right through." He remembered now. He'd signed up for Christmas and New Year - let the younger ones with families who'd appreciate it more have the time off. "The canteen does quite a decent Christmas lunch - and when else am I going to get to see Toby Gregson in a paper hat?"

"I think DI Gregson said he was going to be in Prague, sir - with his new girlfriend."

DC Dallas was fortunately looking at Greg as he spoke and didn't see the murderous glare Donovan shot him. Greg saw it, knew it was on his behalf and felt just a little warmer.

"Is he now? Good for him. Never been to Prague but I hear the beer's good. I'll have to drop a few subtle hints his way to bring me back some."

"Might not want to make them too subtle - this is Gregson we're talking about," Donovan joked.

"Watch it, Donovan - that's a senior officer you're talking about there," Greg chided.

"Don't you mean superior officer?" DC Dallas asked.

"I know what I said." Greg winked at Sally and she flushed slightly with the implied compliment. "Right, this lot's not going to write itself, more's the pity. Let's crack on."

He picked up his pen and the other two took the hint and headed back to their own tasks…


End file.
